


Aftermath

by inalasahl



Category: Firefly
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-06
Updated: 2006-03-06
Packaged: 2019-04-29 07:24:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14467800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inalasahl/pseuds/inalasahl
Summary: Jayne needs help to adjust.





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Firefly’s Glow](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Firefly%27s_Glow), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Firefly's Glow collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/fireflysglow/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Big Damn Movie spoilers!

  
Author's notes: Big Damn Movie spoilers!  


* * *

Aftermath

## Aftermath

Author's Note: Much thanks to quiesce for the beta. Written for the NSP ficathon. 

* * *

Sometimes it's a quick rough tumble before a job. Jayne spread out on his knees before Mal, hands curled around the bed frame as Mal grips his hips hard and batters into him. It's a promise, a way of laying claim. "Mine," Mal gasps, "Neither of us is going anywhere, I'll see to it." 

"Tianna," Jayne mewls, his entire body convulsing as he falls. It's the talk as much as anything else, Mal knows. Jayne needs that, needs to know that someone beside a distant mama will care what happens to him. She only knows about the dirt beneath Jayne's fingers; it's Mal who knows about the blood on his hands and still looks him in the eye. 

If Mal's honest with himself, he needs it, too. He moves in and out, Jayne still panting under him, fingers pressed deep into thighs with little give. Mal needs Jayne's solidity, a thick heavy surety that don't flinch over graceless words and grumpy moods. Jayne don't break easy. "Gorramit, Mal, so ruttin--" and the rest of his words are lost to the roaring in Mal's ears as he, too, falls. 

Sometimes it's slower and gentler. Mal laying down kisses on the body wrapped around his, inching his way out from under heavy limbs until Jayne's awake and Mal sinks down enough to wrap a firm unmoving hand around Jayne's cock, while his tongue plays along the crease between leg and hip. "Please, Mal, gorramit, I need it." Jayne's not a patient man, and Mal's innards clench to hear him beg, instead of taking. He can't help but give in immediately, closing his mouth around Jayne, his own body spasming a bit from the sound of Jayne's groan. 

After Jayne quiets, Mal kisses him, before letting him draw his knees to his chest. It'll take years of kissing before Jayne's so much as caught up on all the ones he should've gotten by now, Mal thinks. Jayne's leer as he runs his hand invitingly through his damp chest hair convinces Mal to start with two fingers. For them, that's slow enough. 

It's not what Mal was looking for, but it's damn sight better than he ever expected to get back when Serenity had limped away from that last big fight. He spent those first weeks on guard, looking for signs of trouble. He's been through big battles before, knows what they do to folk. 

He wished he didn't. He had all he could handle with finding jobs, but looking out for his crew was part of his job, too, and he knew it. 

He kept the closest eye on Zoe. She turned out fine, of course. She's the kind that holds together, but Mal made it as easy as possible by giving her lots of work. She's caught his insomnia; they walk the ship together most nights now talking about whether it's a good time to try Boros or Beaumonde again. That's just how it is, though, not a sign of anything unacceptable. 

Mal didn't say nothing when Kaylee and Simon started spending time together. He braced himself, but neither of them ever got around to making what you'd call a formal declaration. They don't share a bunk neither. Kaylee's ain't fit for two; Mal ain't sure why they don't use Simon's, unless it has something to do with River. It ain't his business, really. He's just learned to make a lot of noise when he comes down the passage toward the engine room unless he wants to see quite a lot of skin and quite a lot of blushing. 

Kaylee don't blush. 

River took over the piloting. Wash's dinosaurs still sit where they always did, and she don't let them gather dust. She's creepier than she was before, though less crazy. Mal ain't sure that's a comfort, but she's no better or worse than she ever was so he don't worry none over her. 

They got Inara still to tie them to the world. Mal's glad of that most of the time, even if he don't say it. But it's hard lookin' at her some days, harder still others. She caught him once watching Kaylee and Simon laughing together. "We're never going to be them," she said finally after several minutes of not saying anything. 

"No," Mal said. 

"You know I love you," she said. 

"Yes," Mal said, drawn out and paused, like he never really had. "Me too." 

"No," she said. "Different verse, perhaps, but not here." 

"No," he agreed. He loved the Inara who told funny stories and kept the galley clean. The one with soft wavy hair and perfumed elbows who called him names and had a temper. The one who teased and cursed him in the same breath. He didn't so much like the Inara with red painted lips that kissed other men. He paused for her to say she was leaving. 

She didn't. He was glad of it. "I'm sorry," he said. 

"So am I," she said. She looked at him sideways, her mouth curving on just one side. "For you." She laughed, but stilled when Mal didn't say anything. "Is that what you have been waiting for all this time?" she asked. "Absolution?" She shook her head, making Mal feel small and gauche. "It isn't anybody's fault, Mal. Not even yours. It's just the way things are in this moment." 

He guessed he didn't really believe that. She should be angry at him for not loving her enough not to care. As angry as he was at her, for not loving him enough to give it up. 

He wasn't going to be the last man she ever loved. She was as strong as Zoe in her way. 

Jayne, the one Mal nearly forgot to keep an eye on, he's the one that takes it the roughest. Mal has to wrestle a bottle from him one night, smashing it against a bulkhead so all the liquid runs out. He acted like his lost his best friend, and maybe he had without Wash around to tease him or the Shepherd to give him advice. 

Mal never liked the Shepherd much, but he liked Book just fine, and he hadn't failed to notice that Jayne had taken to talking and listening to the man a great deal. Mal figured that a man like Jayne had a lot of secrets and things to think through, and no one to share 'em with now. 

Hell. Mal himself had a lot of secrets to carry. He just never needed no one to share them with. Zoe knew all the worst, and he never had to tell her nothing. 

"We did a good thing," Jayne said, all the fight gone from him. 

"That we did." Once upon a time, Mal decided to be a bad guy, and it nearly broke him. Jayne's decided to be a good one, and he's nearly at the same place. 

"It don't feel that way." 

"River might have a difference of opinion on that." Mal smiled easily, hands tucked around his gun belt. 

"And Wash?" 

"You weren't there," Mal said. "But it was a good death. A man couldn't ask for better." 

"I wish I could believe," Jayne said. In what, he didn't specify. He looked back at the spreading puddle of alcohol. "I need something, Mal," a broken whisper. 

It all came back to belief sooner or later. The expression on Jayne's face was oddly marred, and it took Mal a moment to figure out why. All Jayne's expressions contained a hint of leer to them. A hint that was missing now. Mal did the only thing he could think of to bring that back and kissed him, hard. Jayne's lips were dry and moving backward. Mal gripped Jayne's head, pulled him closer. He could feel Jayne's arousal pressing against him, so what was the prob-- Right. No-kissing rule. Mal pulled away briefly. "You're gonna trust me," he ordered, and then dove back in. Someone smarter might have told Mal that emotions can't be ordered around, but Jayne just did it, relaxing into the kiss, then getting into it, growling into Mal's mouth, tongue pushing at him. 

Mal fumbled at Jayne's pants and fell to his knees before Jayne had time to object. It didn't take long before he was cursing, pulling Mal's hair. Jayne came like a storm breaking. 

"That enough of a something?" Mal asked when it was over. Jayne couldn't speak, just nodded, eyes wide. "Good, 'cause we still got work to do. Half those crates we brought on board this morning still need stowing." 

Jayne had recovered enough to wave a hand at Mal. "You?" 

He grimaced. "I'm thinking I should go put on a looser pair of pants." Jayne frowned. "Later," Mal said, running a thumb across Jayne's lips. "We got time; neither of us is going anywhere." 

Later, after it becomes a regular thing, and Jayne's eyes go back to spitting fire, leering and twinkling as they ought, Mal rolls over in the night and finds comfort in the thick warmth that tells him he's not alone. This is what life is down at its guts, and if Jayne needs the reminder, Mal will oblige. 

The End

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Title:   **Aftermath**   
Author:   **inalasahl**   [website]   
Details:   **Standalone**  |  **NC-17**  |  ***slash***  |  **8k**  |  **03/06/06**   
Characters:  Malcolm, Jayne   
Pairings:  Mal/Jayne   
Summary:  Jayne needs help to adjust.   
Notes:  Big Damn Movie spoilers!   
  



End file.
